


Under a Full Moon

by MyPretzels



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jemma Simmons Angst, Jemma's perspective in Maveth, Maveth - Freeform, POV Jemma Simmons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:45:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8418034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyPretzels/pseuds/MyPretzels
Summary: In one lonely night in Maveth, Jemma takes a moment to think about her best friend and the painful reality separating them both.





	

She probably shouldn’t, but she slides out her cot, walking quietly to the metal stair and sneaking out his- _theirs_ hideout. She carries only her sharpened spike in her belt. It’s the only protection she has.

No longer a life of ICERs, tactical gears and personal combat technics.

She sighs when she pushes herself out the hole they call a home now to the empty nothing outside.

It’s an oddly clear night.

She can’t really know if it’s actually night, but she prefers to think there’s still a tenue line between day and night, this way it’s easier to deal with the shade covering this place all the time.

It’s terribly quiet.

It’s usually very silent, but tonight there’s not even a hint of wind to whistle and blow her hair on her face.

Jemma walks slowly to the pond, letting a pile of her clothes over a rock before getting in the water. It’s colder than usual, but still warm enough to be _almost_ pleasant. She washes off the dust on her skin, massaging the muscles of her legs, undoing the knots from all the tension she builds for being in this hell.

Her calves are always sore from all the running and climbing, often resulting in painful cramps after a long day and aching through the night when she finally gets some rest.

When she finally feels a bit relaxed and the cleanest she could be without proper body products, she floats on the water, watching the smaller moon shine as it goes up in the sky, bathing the ground with a weak silver light.

She waits until her fingers are wrinkled and her jaw is clenching because she’s feeling too cold. She wraps herself in the towel that Will gave her, it belonged to one of his former colleagues and it’s not very functional as it should be, but she finds it better than slipping immediately back in her teared clothes again.

She braids her hair, because it’s already long enough to do it and makes her way up the small sandy hill, once at the top, she picks the place by the round rock and lies on her back to see her imaginary sunrise.

It’s been so long she saw a sunrise that she almost convinces herself that it looks like it.

The smaller moon it’s almost at the top and Jemma knows it’s going to disappear for a few minutes when it reaches its peak, but it’s not for this one that Jemma’s out now. It’s for the larger moon.

This one is shinier, but only when it's rising. Jemma looks around every few minutes, knowing she’s never safe out here, not with that _thing_ hunting them, but she takes her risks to watch the beautiful event.

 _Beautiful_. She can hear the ghost of a laugh in the back of her mind.

“It’s the beautiful I have now.” She whispers to no one in specific, glancing to the horizon, wondering if all of it it’s a complete wasteland or if there’s something beyond that her eyes can’t see and her mind is too frightened to even consider exploring.

Jemma leans on the rock formation behind her back and counts down the minutes, waiting for the larger moon to start rising up. She slides her phone out her pocket, rubbing the rough edges, the results of all the falls it suffered in its time here. The cracked screen it’s probably what hurts most.

_“Don’t understand how you keep shattering your phone screen and still can be allowed to work with beakers.”_

He had teased her repeatedly about this.

“Good morning, Fitz.” She whispers when the tip of the moon starts to appear far away in the horizon.

There’s no answer.

Of course.

There’s never an answer.

She watches it though, her _moonrise_ , counting in her head how long it takes to show completely in the sky before the smaller disappear.

It’s a beautiful event, especially considering the ugly steadiness of this place. It’s a wasteland with no end or hope, but the larger moon rising resembles a bit of an odd sunrise and she takes it as her reward in surviving another cycle in here.

The smaller moon finally disappears, completely, as if it never existed. She counts the time until it shows up again.

Counting things became some sort of a pastime distraction.

She waits until it’s back in the sky before she starts counting the stars, there’s too many in here, so Jemma focus only in the shinier ones, looking for known constellations, but her searches so far have always been useless.

Everything in here is old, different and disorientating. The stars are all purplish, which is extremely unsettling since all the land around her seems grey and blueish. The sand beneath her feet is a light shade of grey, completely different from the comforting beige from Earth’s sand.

“You never liked sand.” Jemma murmurs, sinking her fingers in the sand and lifting a handful just to see it pour out her hand. “ _Sticks everywhere._ ” She tries to mimic his accent, but fails miserably.

She glances down to her phone, no expectations in mind, but she wishes inside that it’d light up and she’d be able to take a last glance of his face.

“Don’t build up expectations, Jemma.” She tells herself, listening to her voice getting dry as her eyes start watering. “I’m sorry, Fitz.” She whispers to her phone. “I know I shouldn’t cry on your birthday.”

Jemma’s not truly sure it’s today. She’s been counting down the weeks the best she could, the moons help her keep track of the time, but it’s not an accurate thing, she’s not sure of how many hours the _day_ here actually has.

She rather to trust her biologic clock, taking her hours of sleep as an indicator that it’s passed another 24 hours, she risks the days in the stone wall behind her cot. There’s so many marks by now that it makes her wonder if she’ll give up in doing it any time soon.

The larger moon has a nine days' cycle, the event she’s watching today is the start of a new one, for the last nine days, only half of the larger moon would appear and tonight it’s the start of the full moon cycle.

She usually feels better under the full moon, the sky seems more crowded like this and it eases the lonely feeling that shadows her every move.

In her counting, she’s been in this place for over 4 months, it’s only an approximation, but it aches her chest every time she think about it.

She wonders if they already took her for deceased, how long has it been since they end the searches for her, when did they tell her parents about her disappearance, if they made up a fake story or if Fitz forced Coulson to tell the truth. She tortures herself thinking about the symbolic funeral they might have done for her and about the probable absence of her best friend on it.

Jemma can picture him telling people to go to hell for calling him to participate this nonsense and yelling curses to anyone who tries to drag him along. She also knows that he’d never visit her memorial, nor in Shield nor in Sheffield, but probably would turn the base upside down to make sure her name is in the Wall of Valor at the Academy.

“I miss you so much.” Her voice is shattered when she talks to her phone.

Today being his birthday it’s mostly a guess from Jemma, she can’t know for sure now that her phone is dead, but she hopes she’s right about this, she’s been wrong in so many things referring to him that she truly hopes she at least got this one correctly.

“Happy birthday, Fitz.” She whispers when the smaller moon starts to fade in light. “I really wanted to be there with you.”

She still watches the moon rising slowly, counting the minutes until she needs to look up to follow the path it’s making, it’ll be her cue to head back.

“How are things with you now? What are your plans for today?” She breaths in slowly. “Have you called your mum yet?”

 _Say hi to her for me._ She adds quietly.

“Would we eat pancakes in the couch with Skye stealing your syrup?” A little smile quirks up at the corner of her mouth. “Or we could take a day off to watch Doctor Who under a cozy blanket and drink tea? You’d probably fall asleep in the second episode and drool on my shoulder, right?” A high-pitched laugh escapes her lips. “We could go out and…” She stops before she finishes the thought, her smile quickly dying as she closes her eyes to hold back her sobs.

The reality hits her hard when she opens her eyes, blowing her quick fantasy away.

“I know it’s selfish.” She breaths in deeply, still fighting the happy scenery behind her eyelids. “But can I have your wish this year?” She asks to her phone, picturing in her head the last photo of him she had saved on it. “I’ll let you have mine later.”

She glances to the larger moon once again, drying out her tears and working to calm her breath. Her time is ending, so she rushes herself to say the words.

“Please don’t give up on me yet.” She starts quietly. “I’m still here.” It’s hard to make her voice understandable when she’s so close to cry. “Waiting.”

That’s everything she has to do now.

Wait.

 

**Author's Note:**

> When I started this, I was planning to make it less angsty, but something happened and this is what I ended up writing.  
> Hope you liked it. Find me on Tumblr ~ MyPretzels


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